


The Barman

by the_never_was



Category: Fable 3 (Video Game)
Genre: Brightwall, F/M, Fluff, Gameplay thoughts, Humor, Long One-Shot, Mild Smut, NPC perspective, Other, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-03 19:35:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12153393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_never_was/pseuds/the_never_was
Summary: We play many rpgs these days, obsessed with our player and the rounded characters about them.But what if we shift the perspective?What if we see the game's world, events, and the player through an NPC's eyes?Enter Peter, the Barman in Brightwall, when his simplistic world with its daily rituals clashes with the Princess of Albion.





	The Barman

**Author's Note:**

> This is old.  
> Like really old. 2013 old.  
> With revision from 2015.  
> But it was fun to write. Hope you like the archived stuff.
> 
> Fable 3 copyright owned by Lionhead Studios/ Peter Molyneux

{------1------}

 

“Would you look at that, Peter? Tom’s gone off his socks again,” Emma, Peter’s barmaid, gestured toward the poor drunken sod named Tom. His legs were over the chair and his snores were louder than the store hawkers outside the pub.

“Why am I not surprised?” Peter finished wiping the bar down, slung the towel over his left shoulder and walked toward Tom’s location. He bent his knees, rotated his shoulders, and sighed. “Tom. Get up.”

“Wha—? Hnrmh,” murmured the drunk’s reply as his hat further covered his face on the floor. Peter rolled his brown eyes, ready to throw the man out permanently with no chance of pity again the next time Tom’s wife tossed his arse out his own house.

“Get up, you sorry sight,” Peter growled and hauled Tom up by the arms. Tom flung his limbs about in fright, hiccuped, and fell backwards onto his bum.

He shook his head to right himself. “Oy! Peter. Have I overslept again? Alex is going to have quite the fuss now.”

“She will surely as I am. Now get going before I ban you reentry later. I mean it, Tom!” Peter nodded to Emma, who began prodding Tom’s smelly self out the door. Peter rubbed his temples before cleaning up Tom’s mess. “Emma, shut the door. We’re going to have to work on this spot of vomit for a bit before I want others inside.”

Twenty minutes later, Peter sat with his back to the bar, sweating. Emma was collapsed ten feet from him facedown, a lump on the floor. “I say we never let his sorry self in here again! The nerve of him! He ate so much…porridge!” Emma gagged under the bundle of clothing that hid her.

“Agreed. He’ll have to find another pub, damn it. Or he’ll clean up his own puke on top of payment. That might work.”

Emma groaned. “Probably for the best, since the missus will want to pay you to keep him off her anyway.”

“Don’t remind me,” Peter murmured.

A sudden cacophony of noise outside the pub caused both Peter and Emma to start. Peter ran for the door and flung it open, sure a brawl was going on outside. Emma weaseled underneath his arm, wide-eyed at the crowd’s appearance. It seemed the barkeep and his maid were the only two Brightwall residents not in attendance.

“Even Tom’s out there,” Peter grumbled.

“Look out the way!” Emma darted from under his arm and immersed herself into the group with renewed energy she barely showed at work. Peter smirked, but closed the door behind him and walked toward the back of the crowd.

It slowly began to open up as two figures walked through it, waving and chatting. One of the people Peter recognized instantly. Sir Walter, he was called, and he hadn’t changed since his last visit to Peter’s pub a few years ago. Peter had just bought the place at the time with the little inheritance he was given. The other figure he wasn’t certain of; she was tall, taller than any Brightwall woman. Peter backed up automatically as they grew closer. Her dirty blonde hair was tied up in a bun. She wore nice clothing that revealed a full bust, a gorgeous bum, and long legs. Her face was to die for.

Peter closed his mouth and quickly felt behind him for the door. He threw it open and ran inside to his post behind the bar. With haste he grabbed an assortment of goods from shelves built into the back of the bar’s side. He sat out fresh assortments of nuts and tossed a few mint leaves into his mouth to freshen his breath. And then he waited, his pulse flying.

Walter and his guest made their way into the pub, the huge crowd gathered behind them. “We’re off for a small drink from our journey and then we’ll begin work on helping you, Brightwall!” Walter chuckled as the crowd cheered. The woman smiled and nodded.

Emma snuck in eagerly behind the pair and shut the pub’s door. When the woman looked at the barmaid, Emma replied, “Privacy, m’lady. Don’t want those crazy, excited folks over-runnin’ the pub, now do we?”

“No, I suppose not,” the lady answered. Emma gazed at her clothing with jealous and worshipping eyes.

Peter swallowed. “Sir Walter! How kind of you to drop back by! Thought you might’ve forgotten this place, eh?”

Walter laughed and slapped a hearty hand on Peter’s lean frame. “Ah, Peter, ‘tis good to see you lad. And still in one piece, too. Thought you might have been eaten alive by wanting women!”

Peter blushed, a hard feat to get him to do. “No, Walter. I guess the pub’s me mistress. See, she’s awfully big and tall. Formidable to any real woman, maybe.”

The lady eyed him curiously and then turned to look around the pub. He caught the small smile on her lips, and his heart jumped.

Emma picked up her duties with more speed than usual, cleaning like a windstorm; she wanted the lady to enjoy the atmosphere the pub provided, or could provide to better customers than it usually received. She glanced back at her boss. He’d never been this nervous around any customer that she could ever recall. Then again, the lady was quite handsome. _Not that Peter wasn’t a charming catch, either_ , she thought. Peter’s bright blond head bent as he grabbed three glasses off of a shelf. His broad forehead, long nose and strong jaw were highlighted by sun coming through a nearby window.

“Peter, let me introduce someone to you! Arien, this is Peter. He’s a hell of a lad and a damn good barman. Peter, this is Arien, Princess of Albion.”

Peter’s eyes bulged as he looked to Arien again. He exhaled deeply. “My dear friend, you should give me more notice before bringing royalty to my lowly pub; I would have been able to dress it more appropriate.”

“Please don’t concern yourself with that, really. It’s actually quite lovely. Warm, too,” Arien spoke. She smiled at him.

“Well, I’m glad then, m’lady. It’s a true pleasure meeting you…although I do hope you’re not here on some errand for your—the king.” Peter reached over the bar and took her hand. He bent and lightly kissed the back of it with his lips, missing her soft smile.

“That’s the best part, Peter! Logan’s poison hasn’t touched his little sister. Nope, she’s everything her father ever was, bless him,” Walter beamed at Arien and clapped her shoulder tightly.

Emma swooned while sweeping the broom back and forth. “The Princess! ‘ere in Brightwall. Goodness, it could be like old days almost!”

“That is what we’re hoping for, Miss Emma,” Walter explained. He turned to face Peter. “Pete, Arien and myself know the true state of the people of Albion. We want to free all of you from Logan’s tyranny. It’s going to be a rough road, but we will help as long as there are allies to have.” He took a swig from his glass and sighed. “You’ve got the best beer from here to Bowerstone’s many parts. I quite missed it.”

“Thanks,” Peter bowed his head. He continued, looking at Arien, “We really could use the help. I mean, we’re not as dire in some ways as Bowerstone Industrial is or how the Dwellers are, but we lack so much of what Brightwall was. You’d have many an ally here if you could do anything to help.”

“The Dwellers need food. Badly. If we could work something out where Brightwall citizens could donate some food to the Dwellers, I’m sure I would be able to help reinstate Brightwall to former glory,” Arien answered.

“Good,” Peter replied. “Walter, I’ll give you a list of folks to speak with directly. They’ve got the most influence. You’ll also want to talk with Saul at the Academy.”

Walter nodded. “Yep, we’re going there shortly, though I could use a small rest from traveling so far. Arien, you’re more than welcome to browse about the place. Make some friends, know the area.”

“All right, Walter,” Arien said. She finished her glass of water.

“Walter, use the bed upstairs. No worries.”

“Thanks, Pete. Hey, you know you could probably show Arien around town. That way you’re involved, the pub’s quiet, and I can actually rest a bit.” Walter laughed.

Peter nearly choked on the mint leaves, but recovered quickly. “Sure. Emma, head off for a while. I’ll get you when we’re opening again.”

Emma gladly ran out of the pub to gossip with the other townsfolk.

 

{------2------}

 

 

“We’ve lots of stall vendors here. They provide trade goods, potions of different sorts, food, jewelry, and more. Even books on training your dog, as I see you’ve got one.” Peter eyed the pink poodle as it barked and jumped in circles.

“He’s part of the family,” Arien said, smiling. “Helps me fight, too. Don’t you boy?” The dog jumped up as she pet it happily. “You can pet him, if you’d like.”

Peter cautiously reached out and petted the dog, earning him a slobbery hand in return. He wiped it repeatedly on his apron. “Might I ask…why pink? He is a boy, after all.”

Arien laughed musically. “Just a joke between my dear stand-in father and butler, Jasper. He’s fond of my dog, but still scoffs at him, mostly out of principle I’m sure.”

“I see,” Peter smiled. “Well, over here to our left is a place where you can sell any items for some quick gold. Straight ahead, ‘round the statue, is a smithy, where different weapons are available. The stall to its left there sells the potions.”

“I see a woman sells beer next door to your pub,” Arien observed.

Peter scowled. “She moved here a while ago. Thought she could charm me out of my pub and into her bed. She was mistaken. So, her revenge is to profit off individual beer and wine sales right next to my front door. Nothing to be done, unfortunately.”

The dog barked at the stall vendor and lightly growled. She glared back at it. Peter whistled and the dog ran over to him and sat, panting. “Good boy,” he said earnestly and gave its head a nice rub.

“He likes you,” Arien commented.

“Guess so,” Peter agreed. He couldn’t know the importance of the dog’s people preferences and so gestured forward. “Shall we proceed?” After a thought, he held his right arm out. She was royalty, after all.

Arien took his arm and followed him over a small bridge.

“Now, there’s three paths you can take from here. Left just has a few houses. Straight ahead are The House of Cluck, its rascal chickens and their quarreling owners. Just in front of us is the barbershop. If we take this right path, there’s much more.”

“I’m following you, Peter.” Arien lightly tugged on his arm.

“Ah, right. Well, we’ll go right, then.” Peter escorted her up a small winding hill, past a well. Villagers stopped and waved or smiled at the Princess, commenting on her dress and giving good tidings. Others hung back and gossiped. Peter began to lightly sweat under the pressure of all their eyes on him. He grew embarrassed as he imagined what he looked like escorting the Princess of Albion.

“My lady, I’d like to apologize. My current state of dress is a bit more ragged than usual; one of my typical customers made quite a mess this morning when we roused him and—”

Arien gently shushed him. “Please, don’t worry about it. I feel overdressed, as usual, even if these are work clothes for me.”

Peter didn’t know if he could imagine what her “nice” clothes looked like, then. He took her up a bigger hill and through a fence entry. “Around us are the many houses of Brightwall. They may not have much, but they’ve got Brightwall charm.”

“I think they’re lovely,” Arien replied. Peter quickly glanced at her and believed her words to be true.

“Up ahead here on the right are many points of interest. There’s more stall vendors, a clothing shop and a furniture store. Also, should you be interested for any reason, there are posted notices for part-time pie makers and lute players.” Peter pointed at each item he spoke of and Arien’s gaze followed. “Should you go further up the right, you’ll find a man named Brian. He’s…strange. Quite fond of garden gnomes, the creepy buggers, but each to his own, I suppose.”

They continued forward, passing a beggar whom Arien stopped to give some small coin, and came to a large fountain. “There, my lady, is Brightwall Academy. Your father is really tied to it. Saul can tell you much more, I’m sure.”

Peter turned to face Arien as she briefly, but lovingly, took in the sight of the old building. She looked back, smiling. “I can feel his print on it.”

Peter nodded pleasantly. “I hope you enjoy your visit here, Miss. It’s been a pleasure.”

“Yes, you need to get back to your pub.” Arien paused. “Peter, you’re a very kind gentleman. I look forward to seeing you soon.”

“Thank you. And I you.”

She watched him walk away, his hands clasping each other nervously, his shoulders bent in thought. Then, with a deep breath, the Princess of Albion went to reclaim a rightful gift.

 

 

 

{------3------}

 

Emma’s loud laughs rang out around the pub. This, of course, meant the current drunk flirting with her had given her an extra tip, probably more than he had given for his original beer. Peter shook his head at the maid and continued cleaning glasses behind the bar while customers chattered slowly in the background. Only a few more hours ‘til closing and he was off for a well-deserved bath and a good night’s rest.

Walter had set off earlier in the afternoon, the list of people’s names in hand. Arien, Peter assumed, was still conducting whatever business she had at the Academy. He had to admit, he was curious about the princess. What kind of person would have the guts to revolt against their own sibling, especially one as vile as Logan could be? Was she still under his legal guardianship as well?

Peter’s thoughts kept batting at him as he finished cleaning more glasses. He also couldn’t believe her stature. Even for a woman, she was…massive. Not fat or huge in a bad way. Just tall and well formed. Peter was lucky to be one of the tallest men in Brightwall, but she stood eye-to-eye with him, easily. It made him a tad uncomfortable.

Peter looked up as Walter stepped through the doorway. He wiped his forehead with the back of his arm and sighed. Peter gestured to a stool in front of him, one away from other customers. Walter eagerly sat and grasped the drink Peter gave him.

“So?”

“So, this is just as hard as I imagined. Even with the Princess’s charm and goodwill, the people are unsure. Hopefully everything is going well with the Academy business,” Walter spoke.

“I’m sure it is, Walter. The Princess is a fine young woman. She’ll get it done,” Peter reassured him. “By the way, do you mind a few prying questions of mine?”

“You deserve more than a few for us springing on you today, Pete.”

“Good, so my first one is if Logan knows what your plans are.”

Walter waited a minute before speaking. “By now, probably. We left the palace in quite a hurry. Went through underground crypts, to be safe. He threatened her to stay out of things. Even made her choose between killing her closest friend or some workers who had come to protest.”

Peter dropped the glass he was holding. It shattered on the floor near his feet. He moved to get the broom and started cleaning it up. “You don’t say? I know the king’s a bastard, but my god, that’s…sick.”

“She chose to have Eliot executed, in case you were wondering. He didn’t blame her. Three villagers lived because of her actions. It wasn’t fair or right to her, but it showed her committal to the cause we have.”

Peter released a breath. “Awful. I hope she’s okay. Seemed fine earlier, but I’m sure it’s still affecting her.”

Walter reached over and grabbed Peter’s arm. “You’re a good man, Pete. She might talk to you if you speak with her. I’m worried, but I don’t want to upset her more.”

“What makes you think I will do any better, Walter?”

“Same reason Tom’s still here after this morning. Emma told me about that.”

Peter grumbled insults under his breath and tossed out the glass fragments. “Because I’m a foolish keep, that’s why.”

“No, Pete. Because you give a damn about people. Just like we do with this cause.”

Peter leaned forward on his arms across the bar. His fingers sat contemplating against his mouth. “I can try. If she ever gets back here, I’ll figure something out.”

“Thanks, Pete.” Walter took a big gulp of his drink.

“I don’t want to sound rude, but…Walter, she’s so…bloody tall.”

Walter chuckled loudly. “That bother you, does it? Yes, I s’pose she is rather tall.”

Peter glared. “I…Walter.”

“I know, I know, it unnerves you a bit, Pete. Between you and me, lad, she’s a Hero.”

“I’m sure she’s a hero or going to be one if this revolution works, Walter.”

Walter smacked his glass on the bar. “No, damn it, I mean she’s a _Hero_. Like her father was.”

Peter stared at him intently. “You mean that?”

“Yes. That’s why she’s so tall. She is damn good with a blade and gun and just as skilled with magic.”  
  
“Well then. That explains a lot. Is that secret your weapon?”

Walter nodded. “Hoping for it. Logan didn’t inherit the power, it seems. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to try my hand at gaining some sympathy with your customers.”

Peter waved him off and dusted the bar, deep in thought.

 

{------4------}

 

As the last customers began to trickle out the door, Peter slapped his towel down on the bar with a happy sigh. He collected all of the day’s gold and put it in the bag in the safe, locking it securely. He ran a hand through his blond hair and watched Emma ease Tom toward the doorway. When she got him to leave, she came back to the bar, breathing heavily.

Peter tossed her a couple pieces of gold he kept out of the night’s profit. “You’ve earned that, dear,” he said. He grinned.

Emma winked. “Damn right, I did. Blasted fool, Tom is. Can’t wait to hear his missus’s reactions tomorrow.” She stretched and sighed. “I’m off, then. Walter’s asleep in a chair by the fireplace. I didn’t have the ‘eart to wake him.”

Peter nodded, his lips pursed. “He’s fine. Let him rest. Have a good evening, Emma.”

“Thanks, boss. See you in the mornin’.”

Peter walked around the corner and checked on Walter’s sleeping form. He added more kindling to the fire and placed a glass of water on the table by Walter’s chair. Peter grabbed an old blanket from behind another area of the bar where kegs were kept and draped it over the old soldier. He then stepped outside and shut the door behind him quietly.

Peter walked left of him to the outside staircase to access the upstairs where he had let Walter sleep earlier. When he was halfway up the stone steps, a voice softly called to him.

He turned, slightly startled. Arien waved and walked toward him. “Hi, Peter. Do you know where Walter is?”

“Sure. He’s inside the pub, asleep in a chair by the fireplace. I covered him with a blanket. It’s unlocked, if you want to go in. I’ll be up here if you need anything,” he said.

“Thanks, Peter.” She smiled and turned back down the stairs, disappearing to the right.

Peter continued up and unlocked the door. He went inside and prepared water over a small stove. Quietly he moved forward to look over the balcony. Arien was sitting at a chair next to Walter, lovingly watching the old man sleep. It seemed she didn’t have the heart to wake him yet, either.

Peter dumped the hot water from the stove into a tub. He stripped off his dirty clothing and eased himself into the tub, sighing softly at the water’s warmth. He leaned his head back against the side and promptly passed out. It had been a long day, after all.

Moments later, it seemed to Peter, he heard whispering. Groggily, he turned, realized he was in water, and gave a shout. “I’ve done it again!”

Arien laughed behind him from the upper doorway. “Do you always sleep in a bath of water?”

Peter yelped and sunk lower in the bath, his hands covering his privates. “Uh, Princess, um….” He coughed.

Arien grinned. “Let me get you a towel, you silly thing.” She followed his instructions and found one from the adjacent bedroom. Slowly, she walked backwards toward the tub, dropped the towel on the floor and waited.

Peter quickly got out of the tub, snatched the towel and dried himself. He wrapped it around his waist and struggled against the desire to slap himself for falling asleep in the tub again.

“May I turn now?”

“Sure, sure,” Peter mumbled, his hands still holding the towel. His cheeks were flushed when Arien looked at him. “Did you…see...?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I just saw you were asleep. Adorable, really. You must have been so tired.”

Peter nodded. “How long was I out, you think?”

“Not long. I finally roused Walter and spoke to him for a while, then came up here to find you. He’s sleeping downstairs. Said you wouldn’t care,” she answered.

“Oh, good. That’s fine then.” Peter coughed and moved past her into the bedroom area. Arien allowed herself a moment to enjoy the view of the surprisingly muscled barman’s torso and back.

After a couple minutes, Peter reappeared in pajama pants and a nightshirt. He ran his hand through his hair. “Is there any place you want to sleep?”

“I hadn’t thought about it yet. I can make a pad on the floor.”

Peter shook his head. “No, just take my bed. I’ll get set up on the floor.”

Arien watched him. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, please. You’re still a princess, you know. It’d be quite rude of me to let you sleep on anything other than a bed,” he joked. “Please, come in.”

She walked into the bedroom. Arien sat on the comfy bed and observed Peter throwing some other blankets and a pillow onto a spot on the floor near the bed. “I don’t have anything for you to wear, unless you want one of my nightshirts.”

Arien figured that would work. He handed her one and left the room for her to change. She called him back in once she was under the bed covers. Arien listened to the ruffling sounds of Peter adjusting to his bed on the floor. He sighed.

“Everything okay, Peter?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Just bloody tired.”

“I can understand that,” Arien said. She held the collar of her nightshirt up to her nose and inhaled. It smelled like Peter. She smiled in the dark.

“Princess…may I ask something?”

Arien spoke, “Please Peter, call me by my name. And yes you may.”

“Okay, Arien. Walter and I spoke earlier before you arrived. He…told me about you. What you really are. I know how important that is.”

“Uh-huh.”

“He also told me about your rough journey out of the palace. I know you went to the Dwellers after that, obviously, but the details of the day you left were horrific to hear. I…just want to express my sympathies for you and your friend,” Peter said quietly.

Arien was silent for a while. Peter gritted his teeth, sure he’d messed up.

Finally, she said, “I cannot believe it’s all happening. I’ve hated Logan, hated his attitudes and his control over me. I didn’t know what the people were going through. When I saw those workers, I just…got so angry. And poor Eliot. If he hadn’t been there with me, he’d still be alive.”

“It’s not your fault, Arien.”

“Peter, I gave the order. He’s dead. Dead so this revolution could start.”

Peter chewed on his lip. He rolled and propped himself up on an elbow. She peered over the bed’s edge at him. “Look, Arien. Walter told me that Eliot wanted you to make that choice because he knew the people needed something to believe in, right? That cancels out any blame or guilt you should feel. I didn’t know him, but I’m sure a good man like Eliot would agree with me, no?”

Arien blinked. “Yes, he would.”

“Tell me about him.”

“Okay, well, he was young…slightly younger than me. He was my best friend. He cared a lot about the people and the staff at the palace.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, Arien. I’m sure you loved him.”

Arien stared at Peter for a few moments. “I did. He was my best friend. But, I didn’t love him more than that. If I had, making that decision would have been even harder and maybe impossible.”

“Oh,” Peter said. “I just thought…I see.” He swallowed. “Arien, I just want you to know that you’re much better than a princess. When I think of princesses, I think of airheads who don’t see beyond their petite noses. You care. You’ll win this because of that simple thing.”

“Thanks,” she whispered.

“Good night, Arien.” He rolled back over and put an arm under his pillow.

“Night.” She watched him fall asleep before finding peace.

 

 

{------5------}

 

Peter woke to the roosters at The House of Cluck. Though far enough away from the chicken coop, Peter still heard them in his pub. Their crows were part of his morning ritual, waking him up to start the day. Peter stretched. Slowly, he realized he was in a nest of blankets on the floor. He looked up at his bed and saw Arien’s form curled the opposite direction.

Peter quietly got off the floor and went into the other room. He dumped the tub water out on the backside of the wall that the stairs were built into. Then he went back inside, washed his face in clean water, and yawned. Over the balcony he could see Walter sitting facing a newly kindled fire, awake. Peter turned and walked back into the bedroom. He softly gathered a fresh change of work clothes from his wardrobe. He shut the bedroom door, changed in the other room, and reopened the bedroom door. Peter combed his hair, or attempted to; it didn’t like to cooperate much.

He stopped to look at Arien’s relaxed face as she slept on. He wasn’t sure if he should wake her yet, and so kept watching, mesmerized by her beauty. Peter couldn’t imagine her slicing mercenaries up with a sword or blasting bats with magic, as Walter had said. He couldn’t imagine that right now, anyway. Peter softly stepped away. Walter looked over at him when he entered the lower floor of the pub.

“Morning, lad. Sleep well?” Walter gazed up at the second floor, an eyebrow raised.

Peter flushed. “Yes. By myself. On the floor.”

“Right.”

“So,” Peter began as he got a fresh towel and cleaned tabletops, “I think I managed to reassure her a bit about Eliot and all that.”

“I hope so.”

“What are your plans today?”

Walter took a drink of water. “Continue rallying. Arien was lucky yesterday. Was able to get one of the things we need to convince Sabine that we want the Dwellers’ trust. She told me she had to bash her way through quite a bunch of hollow men. Glad she’s in one piece.”

Peter bumped into a table loudly. He winced and looked upstairs, as did Walter. No sounds. He sighed, “Sorry ‘bout that. Anyway, hollow men? Are you serious?”

“Yep. Place is infested with them down there. She said it’s just magnificently huge. Who’d have thought, eh?”

“Never been further than the first rooms. I can only imagine.”

“It was amazing, truly!” Both men jumped and looked up at the balcony. Arien was standing behind the covered part of the balcony in Peter’s nightshirt. “Sorry, I just woke up. Is it late?”

“No,” Walter said. “Jasper would be shocked you’re up at this hour.”

“Oh, I’m sure he knows. I’ll hear all about it on my next visit to the Sanctuary.”

Peter stopped listening, confused. He finally dragged his eyes away from the delicious sight of her in his long nightshirt and planted himself on a stool by the bar.

“Morning, Peter! Thanks for everything,” Arien called down.

“Yeah, sure,” Peter softly answered, not looking.

Walter approached him. “You are a sore sight, you know that, Pete?”

“What do you mean?” Peter drew shapes absent-mindedly with his finger on the wood.

“You’ve got more honor where women are concerned than many I know, especially Ben Finn.”

“Yeah, he’s a rascal.”

Walter laughed. “Indeed. Maybe you could take a very tiny lesson from him, though.”

Peter jerked his head up, surprised. “Huh?”

Walter stuck his thumb in the balcony’s direction. “Arien. There isn’t another man in this entire country that I would approve to have her. Just so you know.” Walter winked, clapped Peter’s shoulder, and walked outside.

Peter’s lightly tanned skin paled. He hadn’t been expecting that from Walter. “Great,” Peter mumbled under his breath. “Now that’s all I’ll think about all bloody day.”

After that, Peter’s day went on as usual. He ran his morning errands that he couldn’t do yesterday; he grabbed bread supplies from a vendor and stopped to have a chat with some villagers in the upper crest near the Academy. As he left the conversation, he stopped and stared at the gift stalls. Peter bought a ruby necklace that he carefully placed in an apron pocket. He also bought some fresh eggs from the still-quarreling husband and wife of the chicken coop. He gathered fresh fruit on his last stop and reopened the pub.

Emma arrived at her custom time. She yawned. “Morning, boss.”

“Good morning. Emma, I’d like you to set out this fresh fruit in a bit on the tables. Make it look nice. And see if you can make it smell better in here. Maybe some fresh flowers?” He moved to a few kegs to inspect the barrels and make notes of which he needed to order.

Emma stood for a moment, confused by the unusual request, but went about her duties as he asked. By lunch, the pub was looking quite nice. Peter made a mental note of Emma’s love for decorating.

“I’m going to take a light nap, Emma. Keep a hold of the place. If you want, keep the door shut until you’re ready. I won’t be long,” Peter called as he walked outside. He didn’t want Emma to know he had slept on the floor last night or that he wasn’t very rested from it. Peter kicked his shoes off and climbed into his bed, contented. When he adjusted the blankets, he could smell a light perfume. He inhaled deeply and drifted off, dreaming.

Peter awoke an hour later slowly and happily. He was better rested now. Eyes closed, he smiled remembering the dream he was having. He swung his legs to the side of the bed, stood and stretched. Peter put his shoes back on and glanced over the balcony. Emma had let in a few customers and seemed to be dealing with them fine.

Peter took his time as he glanced over some papers on the table in the adjoining room. He looked up when a knock sounded on the upstairs door. “Come in,” he called.

Arien opened the door. “Peter, hello. I wanted to talk to you.”

“Uh, sure,” he hurriedly moved another chair near his at the table. Arien sat. “Is there anything you need?” he asked.

“Actually, yes. What can you tell me about a man named Jimmy? He’s a mercenary that comes here, right?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Please tell me you aren’t wanting his help. He’s a right prat, he is.”

“No, I need…something from him, though.”

“Just tell me, Arien,” Peter spread his arms.

She exhaled. “Okay. I need his clothes. I’ll have to buy fake facial hair from Stephen and get a tattoo like his, temporary of course.”

Peter frowned, puzzled. “You mind telling me why?”

“I need a way into Saker’s mercenary camp. If I can clear them out and either kill Saker or make a deal with him, then all we need is Brightwall food donations to satisfy Sabine and help the Dwellers,” she explained.

“You and Walter are out of your bloody minds.”

“He thought you might say that,” Arien smiled. “But trust me, I can handle it.”

Peter didn’t mention that he didn’t like the idea of her anywhere near an idiot like Jimmy or a bastard like Saker. But, then again, she did live with Logan for most of her life. “All right, look. I’ll see what I can do. If I can, I’ll get him drunk and up here alone. Then you can do what you need to do.”

“Oh, thanks so much, Peter!” She stood, bent and kissed his cheek heartily.

He looked up and finally smiled. “What was that for?”

“I’ll tell you after you have Jimmy,” she winked and left.

 

{------6------}

 

“Emma, keep an eye out for Jimmy. I want him here, _shitfaced_ by evening. Okay?” Peter accented his points by slamming his index finger down on the bar top.

“Yes, boss. Not goin’ to even ask why.”

“That’s a girl.”

Emma fulfilled her duty and had Jimmy good and drunk by 11 o’clock. He was the loudest and most obnoxious customer that entire day. Peter encouraged her to keep him on the premises as long as possible. He needed to be the last customer inside. This made keeping Tom out a problem, enough that Alex herself stopped by.

“Peter, why did my husband briefly come home? I’m trying to sleep. I’ve got stuff to sell, you know.”

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, Alex, this is a rather rough night. And after the last few days, I think you owe me one. Sleep with your husband and don’t let him live in my pub!”

“But, Peter, look it isn’t that I don’t love Tom, lord knows I do, I just can’t get any restful sleep. Sober, he’s annoying and drunk, he’s more annoying,” Alex pleaded.

Peter stood his ground. “Not tonight. Business with Jimmy. Don’t think Tom’s mouth should let him stay around.”

“Jimmy? From Saker’s gang? He’ll kill Tom, he will!”

“That’s my point. So take him home. Now.” Peter jerked his head in Tom’s direction. Alex grumbled, but went over to untangle her husband from a game. They made a rather loud exit scene.

Jimmy and Emma sat drinking together after another hour. She was nervous, Peter knew, but he kept an eye on the pair and a hand on a gun under the bar. After Bill left, Peter had been trying to come up with a way to get Jimmy unconscious and upstairs. He grabbed the gun.

Emma was facing Peter’s position and saw him walk from around the bar, gun in hand. She nearly gave herself away. Peter put a finger to his lips. Stealthily, he snuck up behind Jimmy and clobbered him square on his head.

Jimmy slumped in his chair, out cold.  
  
“That should do it,” Peter said. “Here, Emma, take this gun. I want you to follow me upstairs. I’m going to drag his sorry ass there. Do not, for whatever reason, shoot at _me_ , for god’s sake.”

“Yes, boss.”

“He’s so bloody heavy!” Peter managed to lift Jimmy over his shoulders. Emma threw open the door and followed Peter closely around the corner and up the staircase. Once upstairs, Emma put the gun down near the balcony.

“I’m gonna go home now, boss. Good luck with…whatever you’re going to do.”

“Night, Emma.”

Peter propped Jimmy up in a chair by the table so the man’s upper torso could lie on top of the table. He then fell to the floor, slightly winded. Jimmy needed to lose some weight, Peter decided. He waited for an hour until Arien and Walter showed up.

“Got him pissed, did you?” Walter grabbed Jimmy’s head by his hat and dropped it. Jimmy didn’t move, only snored louder.

Peter stood. “Better. I cracked his head with my gun.”

Walter grinned. “Even better.”

Peter looked behind Walter at Arien and barely controlled his laugh. “Shut up,” she said. She had faux facial hair done in Jimmy’s likeness and a fake tattoo on her right arm. Peter smiled unashamedly.

“Sorry. It’s just…rather funny.”

Walter lifted Jimmy’s snoozing form up by the torso. “Peter, help me undress him. Leave his underclothes. We need everything from his hat to his boots, otherwise.”

“Got it,” Peter said. Once he peeled off the clothing Arien needed, she shut herself in the bedroom to change. Peter looked down at Jimmy drooling on the floor. “What am I to do with him now, Walter?”

“I’ll take care o’ that. Don’t worry.”

“Good. I’ve had enough of him for a year.”

The bedroom door opened and Arien appeared. From a distance her disguise wasn’t bad, but the closer she stepped, the more obvious her walk and breasts were. Peter coughed and looked away.

“So, does it look okay?”

“I’m bothered. So that’s something.” Walter coughed and adjusted her hat a bit.

“Peter, what do you think?” Arien turned to him, her arms crossed.

He smiled. “For one, don’t cross your arms like that. Also, try to walk a little more…manly. Stand slightly off set so your, uh, bosom isn’t too obvious. You might get into Saker’s camp, but his guards’ll wonder what Jimmy’s been up to if they see those.”

Arien did as he instructed and paced the floor. “Now?”

“Better,” Peter admitted. “Still, you’re not going to get too far without them realizing it. I’m sure there’s a phrase he says with them and other things, like jokes. Just be ready for a nasty fight.”

“That’s a damn good point,” Walter said. “But, Arien you know what you’re in for. Good luck. I will meet you outside the camp when it’s all done.” He lifted Jimmy’s unconscious self.

Peter grew nervous. “Are you sure she should do this?”

“I took on a horde of hollow men yesterday. I’ll be fine, Peter,” Arien said and patted his shoulder.

“Yeah.” He didn’t look convinced.

Her frustration showed. “You don’t believe I can fight?”

“No, if you’re a Hero, then you can. I just don’t want anything to happen to you.” Peter froze. Arien stared at him. Walter quietly exited and went down the stairs.

Arien stepped up to Peter. “I’ll be fine. I promise, Peter.”

“It’s just…you’re the revolution, you know. _You_ are,” Peter backpedaled fast, scared of implications his first words had meant.

She frowned, but nodded. “I understand that, which is why I will be even more careful.”

“Okay,” Peter said. He turned and leaned on the balcony. He reached into his apron pocket and pulled out the necklace. “Here,” he said and held it out. Arien took it and examined it.

“Peter, what is this for?”

“Good luck and because I just wanted to do it.”

She smiled and put it on under Jimmy’s shirts. Arien kissed his cheek again. “Thanks, Peter.”

“Why did you do that earlier?” He looked at her from the corner of his eye.

“Because of what you said last night. And because I just wanted to do it.”

Peter swiveled his head and looked at her. She smirked and waved before shutting the door behind her.

 

 

 

{------7------}

 

Peter manned his bar the next four days as usual. He stuck to routines he knew to keep his mind dulled. He did not, could not, think about Arien’s chances with Saker. Peter hadn’t met Saker face-to-face, but he had heard things. Tortures, murders, maybe even a couple of rapes were under Saker’s belt. So, Peter manned his bar as usual. But he watched the door like a hawk. Emma became slightly unnerved by the subtle changes in her boss’s behavior. She might be just a barmaid, but she knew that the Princess had something to do with it. Emma smiled often at him when Peter wasn’t looking.

On the fifth day, Peter decided that he couldn’t be in the pub. He left Emma in charge under threat of suspension should anything go crazy, and he took a small trip. Peter walked over the bridge and up the right path to the Brightwall Academy. He was going to learn everything he could about Heroes.

Saul greeted him happily. Peter knew most villagers had given up on their deeper educations, which was one of the reasons the place had gone to pot. Funding was, of course, a major issue. Plus, Saul was one man. He couldn’t mind the entire place.

Peter shook Saul’s hand. He’d left behind his apron, towel, and scruffy shirt and instead dressed in one of his best shirts, a longer poet-like shirt. “Saul, do you have any books I could browse on a particular subject?”

“Oh, I’m sure. What subject might that be, Mr. Lancaster?”

“Heroes, sir.”

Saul eyed him with some suspicion. “Why might you be interested in such a subject?”

“I know about her. I want to understand it more,” Peter answered.

Saul grew thoughtful for a moment before deciding Peter could be allowed information concerning Heroes. He provided Peter a reading space in a side room and found three books within the typically used rooms. Peter spent the rest of that entire day reading, unaware of the hours growing later. He took studious notes with a quill on a piece of parchment. Peter wanted to learn everything he could about Heroes’ strength, magic skill, physiological perks and more. He figured that knowing these things would let him feel better and reassured of Arien’s abilities and fate.

Peter walked into a busy pub when he returned, notes in hand. Poor Emma was swamped behind the bar, fending off amorous men and swindlers. The din was so loud Peter couldn’t think.

“Shut up!” He yelled as loudly as possible. The pub went silent and all the customers stared at him. “That’s _better_. Keep it low.”

Emma literally sighed with relief when he took up the bar. “Where have you been, boss? Do you even know what I’ve been through? The fights I’ve broken up, the men I’ve turned down, the fingers I’ve watched to make sure gold isn’t shining in them where it doesn’t belong?”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I got distracted. But I’m here now, so go take a break,” Peter said. He sincerely felt bad for nearly abandoning Emma, regardless of her skills with the people in the pub.

“Break? I’m going home, boss.”

“Fine, go. See you in the morning,” Peter waved her off. Within the hour, Peter had tossed ten men out on their bums. By the third hour, only Bill and Tom remained.

Bill and Tom were playing their usual card game. Peter sat at the bar reviewing his notes and still wondering if everything had turned out well. Surely Walter would let him know somehow. Eventually, Peter had memorized his notes and couldn’t look at them any longer. Bored, he sat to play Bill and Tom’s game. Even pissed, they beat him. Badly. He paid them their gold and promptly closed the pub in retaliation.

He went upstairs, had a bath, changed into pajama pants and lay in bed for an hour before falling asleep. Peter had fallen into a deep sleep, restless as he tossed about, until a sharp knock sounded from the upstairs door. Peter woke at its third repetition. He took several breaths before getting out of bed. He grabbed the gun left from the other night and moved to the door. “Who is it?”

“It’s Walter, Peter. Open up.”

Peter backed up, unlocked the door and opened it. Walter stepped inside. Peter looked for Arien, but didn’t see her. He shut the door and pulled a chair next to Walter’s near the table.

“Walter, what’s going on?”

“Just came to check on the Brightwall situation, Pete. Check in with you, too.” Walter looked a little worse for wear, but on the whole fine.

Peter waited a moment, then asked, “Is she okay?”

“Yes. I’ve got her doing some work around Mourningwood and Bowerstone Industrial at the moment.” Walter sighed. “If you’ve any doubt about her, Pete, I’d lose it.”

“How so?”

Walter laughed. “Well, she apparently gave Saker a whooping that he shant soon forget.”

“Really? He didn’t hurt her badly, did he?”

“Light stuff, no big deal. But yeah, she won the fight and decided to spare the man’s life. Arien said he was such a sorry sight there, on his knees, begging but understanding and knowing he deserved to die. He’s scared of her, Peter!” Walter chuckled again. “Anyway, he pledged to make his men leave the Dwellers alone and fight against Logan. He was a soldier, after all.”

Peter sighed. “Well, that’s a relief. I’ve been worried the past few days about it all. What did you do with Jimmy?”

“I left the sorry sod with his clothes at the camp. When he woke and realized how duped he had been, he ran off to hide. Doubt he’ll be seeing you anytime soon.”

“Good. So where have you been since?”

“We went to the monorail station. You know, that new contraption that should take us to Bowerstone? Well, as one of the cars was rolling in along the roof track, an explosion happened. Naturally Arien, her pooch and I ran to see what the fuss was about. We found the wreckage. Hobbes. Everywhere. Together, we cleared the entire cave area of the bloody things,” Walter explained. “Then we got to Mourningwood’s fort. Ben Finn was there with another officer I know. They had been attacked by hollow men and had lost one of their lieutenants. While showing Arien how to use the mortar, the hollow men returned in extreme numbers. Her new gun, the Bonesmasher, helped to make quick work of them, but then Ben, the soldiers and I were knocked out cold. The hollow men had resurrected the lieutenant. Poor Arien had to fight off three waves of hollow men until she put the man down again. But she came out of it just fine, as expected.”

Peter cracked his knuckles and stared at his hands on the table. “She’s okay now?”

“Yes. I’ve spoken to Paige, a resistance leader in Bowerstone Industrial. Arien has now seen just how bad things are. The sweatshops, the child workers, even Reaver himself. He made a show of murdering one of his workers while they were protesting.”

“Good god,” Peter exclaimed. “He’s in Logan’s pocket quite happily, he is. Slimy bastard.”

“Yeah,” Walter agreed. “Anyway, Arien is going to be doing lots of work around Bowerstone’s quarters in general. But, she is coming back here in the next day or two to finish business with Brightwall and the Dwellers. Thought you’d want to know.”

“Yeah. Thanks. Just glad you’re both fine,” Peter said, wide-eyed at it all. “I spent time with Saul today. Learned more about Heroes. It’s one thing to hear Arien talk about her fighting abilities, but another to read of them. Seems a bit more real that way, I s’pose.”

“I know why you worried, mate.”

Peter looked over at Walter’s knowing gaze. “That obvious, is it?”

“Anyone who cares about her at all will worry about her fighting on her own. But I’ve seen her in action. She’s bloody good,” Walter said, smiling. “By the way, I saw the necklace on her after she changed from Jimmy’s clothes.”

Peter turned lightly red. “Thought it might bring her some luck.”

“Who knows? Maybe it did, Peter.” Walter clapped his shoulder, as always. “Now, do you mind me crashing downstairs?”

“No, go ahead. Take the key to get in,” Peter tossed his head toward the cupboard on the wall. Walter got up and retrieved it.

“Will do. And Pete? She asked lots of questions about you on our walk.”

Peter looked surprised. “Like?”

“Your past, your family, why you own a pub. Honestly, I couldn’t tell her much. Figured it wasn’t my place, either. Might have a chat when she arrives?” Walter winked and shut the door behind him.

 

{------8------}

 

Peter woke to the roosters’ calls. Slowly he opened his eyes to look out the window opposite the bed. The sun was starting to shine outside, dancing on the tree leaves. He watched it for a few moments before he rolled to his right. Thankfully he looked down before attempting to get out of bed. There, on the floor in a nest of blankets, was Arien. She must have gotten in not long after he and Walter called it a night.

Her clothes were in a pile beside her, along with a sword, gun, and gauntlets. His wardrobe was open, meaning she’d found one of his nightshirts. Peter smiled to himself, content.

Warm, he pulled his covers back to his waist and looked down off the bed’s edge at her while on his stomach. She was facing him, the beauty, as he fought every urge inside himself to pull her up into his arms.

Such thoughts forced him to roll the opposite way and not look at her. But, he lost the inner debate after several minutes. Quietly, he got out of bed on the other side and walked around to kneel beside her. Gently, Peter laced one arm under her neck and another under her knees. He slowly lifted her very sleepy form and placed her on the bed. He tucked her in, pausing to make sure she was still sleeping and, after struggling with himself, briefly pressed the lightest kiss to her forehead.

Thirty minutes later he was downstairs pouring himself a cup of steaming tea. Walter was still softly snoring in the corner. Peter drank his tea as he reviewed a list of the day’s necessities. Deep in thought, he didn’t pay attention to any noise around him until he heard the pub’s door creak. Arien stood at the door, her dog sitting beside her.

Peter gestured for her to come inside. “Stay,” she said to the dog. It lay down on the steps, watching the slow- moving morning villagers as they came out of their homes.

She came forward and sat on a stool across from him over the bar. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” he replied, looking back at the list he was making.

“I woke up in a place that I don’t remember falling asleep,” she began.

Peter didn’t look up at her. “After I awoke, I put you in bed. Thought you’d be more comfortable,” he answered. He began tallying on the side of the notes, making marks for gold pieces he would need per item.

“I was. Thank you for that,” Arien said. She took some mint leaves from the plate near Peter and began chewing on them.

Silence sat between them for a while. It was a comfortable silence. Finally, Peter looked up from his notes. “I think that’s all I’ll need.”

“Daily inventory?”

“Yes. Have to have fresh food, always. Keeps some of the other vendors busy,” he replied. He looked back to Walter. “He’s still out. Watch over him ‘til I get back. Need to go retrieve these,” he said.

“Actually, I’d like to accompany you.”

Peter stopped mid-step. “Well…okay then. I’ll leave him a note and lock up so he’s not disturbed.” He scribbled a note on a scrap of paper and sat it on a table next to Walter. He locked the door and stepped forward to the vendor just past Sally, the woman who sold beer by the pub.

“Mornin’. I need my usual bread rations today,” Peter said. The dog danced about his heels, wagging its tail. Arien watched him make his transaction with the vendor woman before looking back to his list. She observed his behavior as he made each stop, haggled and paid.

On the way back, both of them loaded with packages, they talked. “I borrowed some books from Saul on Heroes after you left. I understand more of what your capabilities are now,” Peter said.

Arien smiled. “Good. I train myself often. Before we left the palace, I had lessons with Walter on sword fighting.”

Peter nodded. “Well, that is reassuring then.”

“Did you find anything else interesting?”

He hummed. “Not really. Just some history I already sort of knew. It _is_ interesting, though, how things can pass down the line through children. For instance, you were given your father’s powers, not Logan. Maybe fate’s got a hand in it.”

“That’s what I think Theresa represents,” Arien said.

Peter looked at her, puzzled. “Theresa?”

“Oh, just this strange woman…I think she was around for my father’s journey. She helps me on the Road to Rule.”

“Not even going to ask anymore,” Peter remarked as he groaned. He carefully sat down his packages so he could unlock the door.

Arien smiled. There was so much he didn’t know, and it didn’t matter.

“Tell me about you, Peter.”

They carried their packages inside and sat them on the bar. Peter started methodically sorting them out in a routine fashion. “Well,” he started, “I’ve lived in Brightwall all my life. My parents both lived here. One of my grandfathers was originally from Bowerstone, though, so I s’pose I’ve got relatives there somewhere. Anyways, my grandparents in Brightwall were sort of rich. They were original investors in your father’s Academy here. My father…he wasn’t the best man. He squandered much of his inheritance on beer, women and trade. My mother put up with it until she died. After he did, I took what little I was given and purchased this building. It had been designed to be a pub, so I just opened one in it.”

“So, you don’t have any siblings?”

“None,” Peter replied.

“I’d rather I didn’t have mine,” Arien watched his hands moving items around. “You’re quite alone here, aren’t you? Did you at least inherit your parents’ home?”

“No,” Peter said. “You know that big house across the large bridge toward Mistpeak Valley? That was my family home. I didn’t have the money to keep it, since my father pretty much squandered everything. It was bought out before I had any profits coming in from the pub.”

“That’s awful,” Arien said. “I could buy it back for you, you know.”

Peter looked up at her. He stared for several moments and then looked back down. “It’s old history. I’ve been here in the pub for a good few years now. It’s more home than anything.” He paused. “Thanks, though.”

Arien bit her lip and looked around in the awkward silence. Walter was stretching and beginning to move. “Morning, sleepy!”

He glanced at her groggily. “Arien! When did you arrive?”

“Extremely early this morning. I slept some and then helped Peter about his errands,” she related to him.

“Ah,” Walter said. “I had better go grab some breakfast. I shall see you both soon.”

Peter and Arien watched as he left and Emma entered. “Boss.”

“Emma,” Peter stepped from behind the bar to greet her. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I didn’t mean to let you get swamped like that. Okay? You’re getting a raise, in case you’ve already planned to plead a case.”

She grinned happily. “You know me so well, Peter. Thanks.” She looked to Arien. “Good morning, m’lady. I hope you’ve enjoyed the improvements to the bar that I’ve been making. Peter was quite insistent about them.”

Peter turned from view, slightly flushed. “Yeah, we get it,” he murmured. Arien smiled at his back. Emma began straightening some tables and chairs.

Arien leaned forward on her stool, watching Peter put away supplies and counting each type.

Emma spoke from across the pub, “So, m’lady, do you have a handsome suitor in the palace?”

Arien’s face dropped. “I did once in the past. I don’t think I do now. Not without the king’s permission.”

“Ah, sorry Miss. Didn’t mean to upset you. Just wondered about the pretty men you must meet,” Emma said soothingly. “The ones that come in here nightly aren’t very pretty at all.”

“Oh, there’s not many of those, really. Men in Millfield think they’re the most handsome in Albion, but they’re wrong.”

“Got a preference? Anywhere I should visit next holiday I get?”

Arien smiled to herself. “I don’t know about you, but I love coming here.”

“Well, that’s just not a holiday though, is it?” Emma went on chatting to herself as she swept the floors.

“So no suitors currently that you know of. I’m sure Logan could still force marriage on you, given his guardianship,” Peter continued as he worked.

“I’m old enough now. Plus, I left the palace. I think that means I’ve separated myself from him completely,” Arien explained.

“Ah, I see. Still, a princess is royalty. Can’t just be some lad on the street,” Peter said, more to himself, as he dusted off a cabinet.

“Why can’t it be? If I love the lad, then it could, I say.” Peter glanced at her. She seemed serious enough.

Walter returned a minute later. Arien left with him to finish speaking with some noted citizens of Brightwall considering the donations. Peter finished the morning chores and sat, waiting with Emma, who drove the barkeep insane by giggling to herself as she thought and looked at him.

“Oh, go laugh outside, you coquette. You belong at The House of Cluck,” he quipped.

Emma giggled. “It’s just so obvious, boss, how you feel.”

“And how do I feel, Emma?” Peter raised a brow.

“You like her a ‘course.” Emma said, ducking out of reach from his bar rag.

 

 

{------9------}

 

Walter and Arien were able to persuade the citizens of Brightwall to help the Dwellers’ situation. Some citizens pondered about what they could have done to help them in Brightwall. In response, a contract was drawn up for Arien to sign. In exchange for Brightwall’s help in the revolution to come, she would restore it to its former glory by reopening the Academy when possible.

A crowd drew once the contract was brandished. Saul, speaking for the citizens, held it up proudly next to Arien and Walter. Peter stood at the back of the crowd once more, curiously watching.

“Do you, Arien, promise to uphold this contract and give Brightwall’s Academy a brighter future?”

“Yes, I promise,” Arien said and bent to sign the contract. Peter caught several men leaning to get a glimpse of her bum as she bent and straightened. He growled to himself, arms crossed.

Once the crowd started to disperse, Peter and Emma quickly returned to the pub, ready to deal with customers coming in from the crowd. They were swamped after a short period of time. Peter filled drinks and bread bowls, all while listening to the various chatter at the bar. The sudden quietness that appeared made Peter jump up and look about. Arien and Walter had just stepped into the pub, smiling and talking amongst themselves.

Chatter slowly resumed, though all eyes were on Arien. They came up to the bar. One regular vacated his bar stool for Arien to sit. Jealous customers griped at him as he tried to fit himself in an already preoccupied chair nearby.

“Princess. What can I get you?” Peter half-smiled.

Arien’s brow rose at his usage of Princess instead of her name. “I’ll have a glass of water, if it’s all the same. Bit dehydrated still.”

Peter nodded, gave her a tall, chilled glass of water and slid a glass of whiskey to Walter.

“So, Peter, it’s rather busy tonight,” Arien said under the din.

“About average, really,” Peter contradicted.

Arien watched him fill a few more drinks. There was notable tension in his hand movements. “Peter? Is something bothering you?”

Peter avoided looking at her and finished handing beers. “What could bother me?” he asked in return.

“Oh, I don’t know, the fact that I’m going to be in Bowerstone Industrial soon and may not return for quite sometime if things get extremely busy.” Arien huffed, unbelieving that she had even said it.

Peter looked up from a keg with a harsh look on his face. After a moment, it morphed into a withdrawn expression. “No, that’s how it is. I just hope you and Walter, more so, know what you’re doing. Anything goes wrong and this rebellion is over. Logan will slaughter most of us and tax and work the rest to death.”

“I know what is riding on this,” Arien snapped. “I killed Eliot, remember?”

Peter froze; a glass dropped from his grasp and shattered loudly. His body trembled. “Yeah. I remember.” He didn’t need to turn around to know she had left. Peter cursed himself and moved to clean up the mess.

“Screwed that one up, didn’t you lad?” Walter snickered behind his glass.

“Can’t screw up what isn’t possible, Walter,” Peter countered. He finished cleaning up the glass and wiped down a section of the bar.

Walter sighed. “Look, lad. Arien cares for you.”

Peter looked Walter in the eye. “Yes, as a friend. As she should. As she should you.”

“So, what, are you nothing more than the pub owner to her, you think? Just another citizen to help in the millions she has to know?” Walter took a big swallow of whiskey.

“How should I know?” Peter wiped with intensity.

“Peter, she can come back here any time she wants. Fast, too.”

“I call shit on that, Walter. Bowerstone Industrial is quite far from here.”

Walter shook his head. “Lad, there are things you don’t know. Those books you read, they didn’t talk about a Sanctuary, did they?”

“No, and I don’t want to know.”

“Peter, just trust me. She could easily travel quickly to Bowerstone now, since she’s walked the path and knows the route,” Walter explained. “And she could return here within the same day.”

“That is not possible,” Peter retorted. “Besides, there’s much to do with the resistance there.”

“All right, lad, why don’t you go find her and talk? I’ll man down the pub ‘til then. I think there’s something she should show you,” Walter said. He stood and eyed Peter.

Peter glared for a minute and then threw up his hands in frustration. He snapped the towel down on the bar. “Fine. Do that.” He walked out of the pub, the door clanging behind him. He didn’t even know where to look, but his feet dragged him out of Brightwall and toward the connecting bridge to Mistpeak Valley.

Arien stood in the middle of the bridge, watching the view from the side. Peter sighed, swallowed, and stepped toward her silent form.

“Hey,” Peter said. At her continued silence, he leaned forward onto the bridge’s side. His lower jaw slid back and forth as he waited. Eventually, he spoke. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insinuate that you don’t know the consequences of what’s at stake. I definitely wasn’t trying to minimize Eliot’s death.”

Arien didn’t say anything, but her stance subtly changed. Peter took it as a sign and pushed further. “I shouldn’t be bothered about you and Walter leaving. Not anymore than anyone else in Brightwall.”

“You helped us through a lot, Peter. Of course you should or could be bothered more than anyone,” she muttered.

“Okay, so I’m bothered. Walter is a great friend to me. One of my only real confidants.”

Arien looked at Peter. “You knew each other before this pretty well?”

“Yes. He’d come through Brightwall not long after I opened the pub. He helped me deal with some starting business issues and some citizen complaints. Hell, he let me put three holes in my old home with my fists and quietly paid for the repairs.” Peter gazed out over the water and released a loud breath.

“I see,” Arien said. She wasn’t sure what else to discuss, but she felt some of the tension between them ease.

Peter turned, leaning on his right side against the bridge. “Walter said something about a Sanctuary. That…you guys could travel here very fast if you wanted or needed to do so.”

Arien shook her head. “No, only I could.”

“Oh.”

“It’s this place my father used. I have an armory, wardrobe, and more inside of it. I can fast travel to it, out of it, and through it to other places. That’s how I got back to Brightwall so quickly,” she explained.

“You realize how insane that sounds,” Peter replied. “It wasn’t in any books I read.”

“Must be a secret thing, I guess.”

He stared into her eyes. “Can you show me?”

“I don’t know if I can take you there. Jasper’s been there since we found it, but he maintains it all.”

Peter looked down. “Ah.”

“But, I can prove it exists. Just wait here, okay? Keep your eyes open.” She smiled.

Peter crossed his arms as he switched leaning positions. “All right. I’m waiting.”

And in less than a second, Arien vanished from the spot. Peter leapt forward, terrified. His hands felt the air where she stood and he spun around, looking. He even leaned over the bridge, wary she’d flipped backward. Peter waited a few minutes, nervous, and then shouted when she reappeared two feet from his face.

“How in bloody hell?” He nearly fell over the bridge’s side. Arien grabbed his arm and pulled him forward onto his feet. He bent over, breathing heavily. “How…?”

“I told you. It exists. I just spoke to a citizen in Bowerstone Industrial and am here now.”

“That is unreal. So strange. Dunno what’s worse, this or Brian’s gnomes.”

Arien’s nose scrunched up. “I’ve had to track down those things. They turned evil and disappeared all over Albion. All kinds of grotesque slurs come from them. It’s how I can spot them in difficult locations.”

Peter gave a crazed laugh. “Yeah. I thought I heard something insulting me in Brightwall recently. Thought it was a villager gone mad.”

Arien grabbed his arm. “Peter, are you okay? You’re rather pale.”

“I…I don’t know. I don’t know what to think, to say…to feel.” He bowed his head. “I don’t know what I should feel. What I’m allowed to, what is proper conduct, what is unacceptable.”

She smiled to herself. “Peter, just say how you feel about anything, and we’ll find out if it’s acceptable.”

“Okay, let’s see. I feel like shit for being frustrated. I feel like a prat for leaving Walter in the bar with the customers. I feel more than undesirable at any rate with my job and work clothes. What I said to Walter was true, you know,” he said. “The pub is me mistress in many ways. I’ve not had many marriage offers because of it, nor have I had the time or willingness to make offers. Mostly men come in to drink or eat.”

Arien grinned, raising one finger up. “Okay, let’s go through these. You feel like shit for being frustrated. That’s unacceptable. You’re allowed to be frustrated.”

Peter shook his head, still looking at his feet. He moved his hands behind him to lean against the bridge wall.

She raised a second finger. “Next, you feel like a prat for leaving Walter. That one you might be accountable for. We’ll have to go back and see how things are going.” She watched him roll his head around on his neck.

A third finger joined the other two in counting. “And finally, you feel ‘more than undesirable,’ whatever that means. I say that is totally unacceptable, Peter.”

He cocked his head up and stared at her. “Is it, now?”

“Sure. You’ve got to make some moves on women, too. Can’t always expect ladies to do it first.”

“Oh, that’s not it. There’s no one I feel attracted enough to or care about that way in Brightwall.”

Arien laughed. “Then why are you staying in Brightwall? Why not travel and find out? Seems to be Emma’s plan.”

“Maybe I thought someone would find me,” Peter said quietly.

Arien bit her lip and reached for his hand. Peter brought his head up slowly, his eyes focus on their hands together and then on her face. “Maybe someone did.”

Peter said nothing for several minutes, just looked at her. Arien grew nervous, but kept her grip on his hand firm. “You’re a princess, damn it,” he growled out and snapped his head in another direction. “I’m just a pub owner. A barkeep. No comparison.”

“I might be a princess, but that doesn’t matter in this regard to me. I want you to know that.”

Now he moved to look her dead in the eye. “Then what could you ever want me for?” His gaze was unflinchingly honest and piercing.

“Because I like you, Peter. You’re kind, smart, and honest. I’m not one to jump ahead of myself, but that’s also the best marriage material I’ve met yet in my travels.”

Peter’s jaw dropped. “Now I know you’re insane.”

“Oh, shut up,” Arien said and threw her arms around his neck. She hugged him tightly. After she drew back, she looked into his face. There was a strange debate occurring in his eyes. Peter grabbed her hand and led Arien back to Brightwall with a silent determination she hadn’t ever seen before.

 

{------10------}

 

He marched into his pub, still leading Arien by the hand. A small crowd was gathered inside. He dropped her hand, put his hands together around his mouth, and shouted, “Out. Everybody, out!”

A few customers stood while others looked confused. “We’re closed early. Please go.” Emma and Walter prodded the last remaining people out of the pub. Peter looked at the pair. “You, too. Both of you. Out.”

Walter cocked a brow in Arien’s direction, noted her flushed cheeks and small smile. Emma looked stunned.

“Took a small lesson from Ben, did you lad?” Walter chuckled and grabbed Emma’s hand. “Let us go, fair maid!”

Peter slammed the door behind them. Arien had moved to stand behind the bar, watching him. He stopped in front of her, toe to toe. And, with one swift movement, his hand found rest in her hair, his mouth on hers and his left arm about her waist.

Arien quickly adjusted and cooperated. Peter could feel her excitement pulse through to him. With his next move, he took her to the floor. Still kissing her lips, her throat, her jaw, Peter let his hands roam as hers grasped at his strong back. Arien tossed her head and let a soft moan escape.

Peter sat up long enough to tear his shirt off before returning to kissing her. Her fingers found the buttons of his pants as his found the clasps of her corset and top. They quickly undressed each other on the floor behind the bar, too impassioned to care about the cool stone beneath them.

He groaned when he finally lay over her naked form. “You’re so beautiful, damn you,” he murmured. “The first time I saw you, I couldn’t think.”

Arien laughed and gripped him to her tighter.

Peter oscillated momentarily before he started to enter her. Arien winced enough for him to catch it and he stopped. “Arien?”

“Sorry. Just a little painful.”

“Well you’re a bit…erm…tight. Don’t get me wrong, it’s fantastic.”

“Peter, this is my first time.”

Peter stopped pressing forward and glanced at her. Panting as he held himself up and against his desires, he said, “God, here I’ve got a virgin lover on the floor of the pub. What was I thinking?”

“Don’t think,” she responded and, with her legs wrapped about his hips, pulled him forcefully forward.

He felt something give inside her. “I…can’t believe you just did that.” He said, breathing heavily.

“I want this, Peter. Now you have to finish, even if we’re on the floor.”

Peter eagerly complied with Arien’s wish.

Sometime later, Peter was sitting up, his back against the bar’s inside shelves. Arien was still lying down, her clothes draped over her. Peter laughed, his hand over his face. “I cannot believe I took you on the floor behind the bar. Wow. Never going to be able to work back here again without thinking about it.”

She grinned. “I know. It was worth it, though. I think we might want to move upstairs, regardless. Stone isn’t comfortable to sleep on.”

“Indeed.”

They put as much clothing on as they needed and went upstairs, locking doors behind them. “D’you think Walter found somewhere else to sleep tonight?” Peter asked.

“Oh, I’m sure. He’s probably at the weapons shop. He knows the owner,” she answered.

“Good. I won’t worry about it then.” He flipped back bed covers. “Get in,” he gestured. Peter followed suit and settled into his bed, his arms wrapping around Arien’s body next to him.

“I still can’t believe all of this. You being who you are. The Sanctuary. It’s all crazy.”

“Best get believing it, Peter. Good night,” Arien said. She snuggled against him, sighing happily.

“Night, Princess.” He grinned in the dark as she elbowed his ribs. He lay awake for some time after that, unable to sleep and too focused on the feeling of her in his arms as he had dreamed before.

 

 

{------11------}

 

For the first time in his life, the roosters at The House of Cluck did not wake Peter with their crowing. Instead, he slept rather happily on into late morning with Arien in his arms’ grasp. Her stirring eventually woke him. Peter cracked a brown eye open and found the Princess’s blue ones watching him, a small smile on her lips.

“Been awake long?”

Arien rolled her eyes to the side in thought. “Mm. Nope.”

Peter laughed softly and rolled onto his back. Arien followed and draped over his chest, hugging tightly to him. He glanced down at the top of her head. “Last night…that really happened?”

“Yeah, it did,” she answered with a laugh. “Thought you dreamt it?”

“Was a tad worried that I did, yeah,” Peter said, grinning. He felt good, damn it. Really good. “I bet it is rather late morning. I’ve got to go get things done.”

Arien sat up somewhat, the covers sliding off of her. Peter’s eyes did a dance from her face to her torso and back to her face. “True. I’ve got some more errands to run for citizens here.” She kissed him and rolled out of the bed.

Peter followed and dressed near her. “Errands? Why on earth are you doing errands for local people?”

“I may have Brightwall’s official support, but it is still good to make some friends personally,” she explained while straightening her skirt. “Care to help with the corset?”

Peter moved to help her into it and began lacing the back tightly. “What kind of errands do you run?”

“Typical stuff. I take packages to people in other towns and areas or escort some people to places. I hate fetching, though.” She grunted from the finished lacing’s tautness.

He moved around her to get a fresh shirt, smirking as he slid into it. “Fetching?”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know how they do it, but some people manage to lose some item or bury it, probably, in another place and then they expect my dog to sniff it out and me to return it to them.”

Peter stopped and looked at her. “You’re serious?”

“Yes, that’s the sad part. I am.”

He shook his head and rubbed his hands down her arms. “I’m sorry, dear. Your time is better spent on other things. Shame they can’t see that.”

“Well, at least you see it.” She paused, watching him. “I’ll be here as often as possible. I want you to know that.”

Peter looked away, a hand on his neck. “Don’t let me get in the way of important matters, for pity’s sake.”

“Trust me,” Arien said, “I will come back to get some rest. Although I’m not sure I will be getting much rest with you, right?”

Peter tried to avoid smiling. “ ‘Tis always a possibility, should you want it to be.”

“I do.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “So…what does this _make_ us exactly?”

Arien blinked and angled her head. “I’d like to…be with you, Peter. You care about me as a person and not just what I represent.” Her hands slid over his chest and down his arms. “Plus, I can’t stop thinking of you….”

“Wow. If you want me, I won’t refuse, though I’m not sure what makes me so great over others in the kingdom.” Peter laughed nervously. “Me, dating the Princess. Had someone told me that days ago, I would have probably thrown them out the pub.” He grasped her hands in his, gingerly, and smiled with his eyes. “I wish you luck on your errands. Let me know if I can help ease that burden in any way.”

Peter pressed a kiss to her forehead and stepped out down the stairs with a knowing half-smile on his face. Emma sat outside the pub, waiting, her arms crossed and her legs spreading her dress wide.

“Morning, Emma.”

She shook her head. “I’ve been waiting here for at least an hour. I’d say it’s more ‘good afternoon’ by now, boss.”

“Well, good afternoon to you then!” Peter jovially tapped her nose and unlocked the door. Emma’s expression grew puzzled as she followed him inside and watched him swaying about as he walked.

“So, boss. You’re awfully chipper.”

Peter moved from keg to keg as he inspected. He kept his back turned, but said, “I s’pose I am.”

“Mind sharing why? Don’t happen often, does it?”

Peter stopped, realizing she was right. “No, it doesn’t.” He spun, grabbing her by the shoulders. “If you must know, my dear, dear maid, I am no longer a confirmed bachelor.”

Emma’s eyes shot wide open. “You’re _married_?”

“No!” Peter took a breath and tried again. “Arien and I have…decided to be together.”

Emma laughed knowingly. “I knew it! That look in your eyes last night? I’ve not ever seen it before! It was so…hungry. Sexy, really.” Peter’s eyes bulged at her description. “You told Walter and me to get right out and never once looked at us!” She smacked his arm coyly. “You had a _good_ night, didn’t you Peter?”

“Right, so that’s where that conversation ends.” Peter pulled dishes off of a shelf, his back to her.

“I want details!”

“Your mouth is too large.”

Emma scoffed. “Is not!”

Peter stopped moving and stared at her, blankly.  
  
“Okay, maybe it is,” she conceded.

“That’s what I thought,” he muttered. He paused in his dusting of the bar to examine Emma. “Emma, you’re a woman. Perhaps you can help me understand something.”

She met his eyes, curious. “Yes?”

“Why would someone like Arien desire me so much? I was afraid to ask her too many questions. Thought she might change her mind,” Peter explained.

“Oh, Peter,” Emma began and shook her head playfully at him. “You’re a gentleman. You obviously care about the Princess’s safety and feelings beyond the average person, and it also doesn’t hurt that you’re handsome, too.”

He smirked, crossing his arms. “Handsome, really?”

“Yes, you’re quite pretty,” Emma rushed out, flushing. “Now I’ve work to get to.”

When Peter returned from his daily errands, he found the pink dog outside and Walter and Arien waiting for him inside the quiet pub. He unburdened his arms by setting items on the counter. “Leaving now, I see?”

“Aye. I’ve got to get back to Paige, and so does Arien. Wily woman has something planned for the both of them and Reaver,” Walter replied, eyes scanning around the pub’s lofty ceiling. “Going to miss this place for a while.”

Peter smiled at his older friend. “Yes, well, the second you’re back in Brightwall, your favorite spot and drink will be ready for you.”

“That’s a lad.” Walter gave him a hearty clap on the shoulder before he moved to step outside. “Will be waiting, Arien.”

Arien nodded in reply before turning to face Peter; her eyes betrayed the longing and frustration that he himself was feeling. Ignoring the darting looks from Emma nearby, Peter stepped toward the Princess, taking her hands in his own. His brown eyes glanced down to their joined fingers before riveting back up to meet her blue ones. “I don’t have to say it, do I?”

“I’ll be careful,” she replied, tossing her head with a small laugh. “You worry so.”

Peter tried to look affronted. “Of course I worry. And now I have all the more right to, so shush, lovely.”

Arien didn’t suppress the smile that grew on her face. “Well. I’ll be back as soon as I can for some resting before our next steps.”

“Good. Not sure I’ll have any notice, but if I do, I’ll bribe Emma to make her best pie. Normally when I do that the bloody customers sneak into it before I get a single slice. We put it in the damn safe sometimes,” he said, slightly incredulous.

“Yes, my lady, I’d love to bake for you!” Emma replied as she swept the far floor by the fireplace.

Arien thanked the barmaid before returning her attentions to Peter in front of her. He let go of her hands, sighing a little to himself. It prompted her to bring her arms about his neck, pulling the barman down for a long, soft kiss that quickly took on a passionate appearance as Peter gripped her to his torso.

He lifted his head first, breathless. “Damn you, woman.”

“I’ll give you the rest when I return,” she teased, stepping away.

“I look forward to it,” he replied, eyes smiling. Peter gave a small wave as he watched her exit the pub, the heavy door closing behind her.

Emma instantly dropped the broom against a chair and hurried to his side. “Boss, if you want that pie, you had better buy the ingredients. You know how that food vendor dislikes me so.”

Peter shook his head, moving back behind the bar to begin the usual preparations. “Perhaps she would favor you more if you hadn’t kissed her husband while he was pissed in here.”

“Oy, I didn’t know that was him. She’d married him from Bowerstone! How was I supposed to know him from any other traveler?” Emma asked, hands tossing in the air as she walked back toward the broom.

Peter glanced at the maid as she grumbled continuously under her breath, probably berating the very vendor he relied on for fresh breads. He sat his hands upon the bar in front of him, his eyes refocusing on the door across the way.  
  
“She had better be careful,” he muttered, thoughts far beyond Brightwall with Arien, wondering just what emotional plains and mountains this Princess was going to take him to in their new journey together.

 

 

 


End file.
